The guests not dancing clapped in time with the music, and Hugh noticed Elizabeth seeming to almost float with her enthusiasm as she watched.
He smiled to himself then took a step and turned to her. “Miss Elizabeth, would you like to join the dance?”
It was difficult to say whose smile was brighter, Elinor’s or Elizabeth’s. Elizabeth put her hand in his and nearly led him out into the dance, so delighted was she. The dance was energetic and spritely, and despite not being the partner he desired above all others, he would be hard pressed to find a dance in his memory that had been as much fun.
The rest of the evening was spent dancing with several of Elinor’s other relations, though he did manage to avoid being snared into one with Letitia, which seemed a thing of mercy. His favorite of the night may have been dancing with Mrs. Asheley, Elinor’s mother, who had seemed to appreciate the gesture a great deal. He had not danced with Elinor again, which had proved to be far more difficult than he’d planned, but his reasoning had been sound.
He could hardly promise that he would have been able to let her go if he had.
Saving himself had never been so agonizing.
But he had watched her, and it seemed that every time he had looked at her, she had looked at him. He lost count of the number of secret smiles they shared over the course of the night, but he could see each one in his mind’s eye. A wondrous variety of smiles, and he adored each and every one.
Eventually, the ball came to a close, and the neighbors and guests left for their own homes, while the family returned to their bedchambers.
Hugh sat in his room for a bit but found himself far too agitated to even attempt to prepare for sleep. Despite the lateness of the hour, and the fatigue he felt seeping into his bones, he was not ready.
He paced his room for a bit, then decided a change of his surroundings would be better suited for it. He left his room, candlestick in hand, and quietly slipped from the bedrooms down to the main part of the house where he would be sure not to disturb anyone.
The gallery was his first destination, and he slowly ambled along the seemingly endless portraits of past inhabitants and relatives of the Asheleys, and even a few portraits of pets, oddly enough. He hid a yawn behind his hand, then moved back towards the now dark and empty ballroom.
Rather than enter, he leaned against the doorjamb, smiling fondly at the recent memories he had gained only hours before.
“So, you couldn’t sleep, either?”
Hugh turned his head, smile already in place, to face the one person he most wanted to see in this moment.
Elinor.
She was still in her finery, though her hair had lost some of its perfection with time.
He liked it looser. Freer. More natural. More Elinor, in fact.
He would always be in favor of that.
“I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “I didn’t try.”
She laughed a little and came to stand before him, setting her candle on the floor near his. “Neither did I. The evening was too full of wonderful things, and I… Well, I didn’t want it to end just yet.”
Hugh smiled at his love. “Believe me, I perfectly comprehend the feeling.”
Elinor smiled gently, rubbing her arms with bare hands. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
He gave her a warm nod. “I would, indeed.”
She said nothing to that, slowly rubbing her arms again as she looked into the ballroom. “Strange. It was so filled with light and music and joy not long ago, and now there is no hint there was anything there at all.”
“Gone without a trace,” he murmured, watching her instead of the room. “Only alive in memory.”
“As with all the best things, it seems,” Elinor replied. “No tangible hints to remember it by.”
Hugh nodded, catching her whimsical meaning all too well. He leaned his head back and looked up, only to smile too broadly for the moment. “Well, perhaps an occasional tangible hint.”
Elinor looked at him. “Oh?”
He only pointed up.
She looked, then grinned and began to laugh. “Ugh, it follows me.”
Hugh straightened and stepped closer. “Can you blame the poor mistletoe? Why wouldn’t it want to follow you?”
Elinor’s smile faded, and she stilled. “I can give the mistletoe a list,” she whispered, her eyes now trained on his.
He shook his head slowly. “Mistletoe doesn’t need a list.”
“No?” She took in a sharp breath and took a step towards him.
“Be careful,” he warned. “We’ve been here before.”
A small smile graced her lips. “Nothing happened.”
“Well,” he said with a soft gruffness, “mistletoe is quite dangerous, as we have learned, and more may occur than meets the eye.”
“Really?” Elinor replied playfully. “Such as?
He shrugged. “Who can say? It might not be so easily defined. Dangerous thing, mistletoe.”
“I’m well aware, Mr. Sterling,” she informed him, a laugh in her voice, “and I’m not afraid.”
“No…” he murmured. “No, you wouldn’t be, would you?” He raised a hand and cupped her cheek tenderly. “Does anything scare you, Elinor Asheley?”
Elinor inhaled almost silently. “Yes…” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Tell me.”
“This.” She brought her hands to his chest and slid them along the lapels, drawing with them the breath in his lungs. “This scares me, and I want it anyway.”
Hugh swallowed once, already swaying towards her. “So do I,” he breathed just before his lips touched hers.
She arched into the kiss, and his arm snaked around her waist in response. There was no hesitation on either side, tenderness and passion at war as their lips molded together, caressing and nipping, drinking from each other without reservation. She was sweetness itself even as her hands moved to grip his neck and his face with an eagerness that had him fairly laughing into the wondrous depths of her mouth.
He poured the very breath of life into this kiss, into this woman, professing all he felt or could ever feel in the truest form known to man. Her lips worked wonders against his, and the end of this kiss would surely end his life as he knew it.
His lips moved down her jaw, a soft kiss going to the base of her ear before he traced his way down the graceful column of her neck. Her fingers curled into his hair as he did so, and she cradled his head against her, bringing his lips more perfectly against her skin. Her shoulder received the faintest whisper of a kiss before she dragged him back for another foray of their joining lips.
Love, need, and desire joined into one as he kissed her, as she kissed him, and he knew his limits were fast approaching. He gentled his kisses, one hand moving to cradle her jaw so his thumb could stroke soothingly there as he tried to calm her, and himself.
Their lips parted, but hovered close as their brows touched. Their breath mingled in the confined space, panting unsteadily on both sides in the silence.
“I never knew,” Elinor whispered as her hands slid back down to his chest. “I never even imagined, Hugh…”
He shook his head against her. “Nor did I, love.” He kissed her lips softly. “Never.”
She exhaled slowly, almost sagging against him. “What do we do now?”
Hugh chuckled and lifted his head, kissing her brow. “Now I think you had best go up to bed. I warned you mistletoe was dangerous.”
Elinor hummed, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. I found it all rather exciting.”
“That’s enough,” he warned with a smile. “You need to go up to bed while you still can.”
She giggled and laid a hand alongside his face. “And will you sleep, too?”
“I will,” he vowed, taking her hand and pressing his lips into the palm. “And I anticipate very sweet dreams.”
“One can hope,” she said on a sigh. She winked at him, then stepped away. She picked up her candle, and gave him a coy, almost
heated look. “Good night, Hugh Sterling.”
Hugh bowed to her, casting her a wink as he did so. “Good night, Elinor Asheley.”
Elinor nodded, hesitated, then moved away, laughing to herself in a way that made him grin outright.
“Merry Christmas, Hugh Sterling,” he murmured to himself as he sank back against the door jamb, completely and delightfully exhausted. “Very merry indeed.”
Chapter Nine
Upon reflection, perhaps in our lives there should be more reflection and less reaction.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 20 August 1818
“She’s smiling.”
“Of course, she’s smiling. Why wouldn’t she be smiling?”
“But she’s… she’s smiling. Not a usual smile, but… Just look at it!”
“I can see it, Elle. I’m not blind.”
“E! Do something!”
Elinor glanced over at her younger sisters, still smiling the peculiar smile that was frightening her sister so. “Are you opposed to my smiling, Elle? Does it upset your breakfast?”
Ellen’s expression was utterly comical. “No one should smile in that manner, at breakfast or any other meal.”
Elinor looked at Elizabeth, who only rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the meal. “I’m done with the conversation, Elinor, but feel free to continue to engage her.”
“Must I?” Elinor murmured, taking a bite out of her toast and chewing thoughtfully.
The three of them were in a parlor that had long been dubbed the Sister Parlor, and they were presently avoiding the melee of their extended family by taking their late breakfast together there. It was a pleasant, quaint room, the walls decorated with some of the drawings and paintings they had done over the years, though none had been truly masterful. Miniatures of each girl had been done at the age of fourteen, and those hung near the windows, though to this day, it was difficult to recall which portrait was of which girl.
Emma used to eat with them in here or retreat up to this room with them during particularly unbearable family moments they’d all wish to flee. She rarely came up here anymore, what with her husband and now the girls. There were simply too many other demands on her time.
Would the same happen to Elinor if she gained such a life?
No, she decided firmly as she took a sip of tea. She would ever be herself regardless of her situation. There was no reason why children could not come to this parlor and crawl upon the floor or sleep in bassinets or any other thing.
Any husband that Elinor would have would never object to such a thing.
She wasn’t aware that she had stopped smiling at any point, and may not have done, but she smiled further at the thought.
“Oh, it’s getting worse. I didn’t think it could get worse.”
Elizabeth choked softly on a bit of fruit, casting an amused look at Elinor.
Elinor looked at her youngest sister with a hint of a scold. “I am happy, Ellen. Why should I not smile if I am happy?”
“I do not object to your happiness,” her sister insisted firmly. “Of course, I don’t. But you are not a smiley person, sister dear. You never have been. Yet there you sit, all smiles and dazed looks, a sickening portrait of a woman of bliss, and I hardly recognize you. Must we have a discussion as to the cause of your smiles in order to return you to your natural state?”
Cautiously, Elinor took another bite of toast, wondering what she dare tell her younger sisters. The cause of her smiles was easy enough to identify, but how could she tell them that Hugh Sterling made her smile and laugh and dream, and that the heavenly experience of kissing him beneath the mistletoe had thrown her world on its head?
They might never believe her, and she had no explanation for the change in her.
No explanation for the waltz that had been the most evocative, romantic moment of her entire life.
No explanation for the breathlessness the touch of her fingers with his had caused.
No explanation for falling in love with the handsome, amusing, honest, and kind Hugh Sterling.
She paused, her teacup halfway to her lips.
Falling in love.
Love.
Good Lord, she was in love with Hugh Sterling!
Slowly she inhaled a shaky breath, then took the smallest sip of tea known to man before setting her cup down and exhaling in a rough whoosh of air.
“All right there?” Elizabeth murmured absently as she read a note she’d received.
“Yes,” Elinor gasped as she dabbed her linen serviette at her mouth. “Yes, perfectly so.” She cleared her throat and rose from her seat, almost fumbling for the edge of the table. “I find I am in need of a walk.”
She left before either of them could make a reply, striding out into the corridor, one hand going to her brow.
How could she have missed this? How could it have happened in so short a time?
For pity’s sake, she had been ready to throw him out on his pompous backside and run him over with a family carriage when he’d shown up at Deilingh just the other day! She would have lumped him in with the devil and his demons without blinking at it.
Now she was breathless with love for him?
But of course she was! The man had changed so miraculously, had proven himself a worthy heart and loving soul. He had seen the error of his ways and brought himself low into the fields of suffering to find the true nature of himself and to rid his character of the vile stains it had collected over time. He had sacrificed the life he had known and precious time with his family in order to seek redemption and restitution. He had pushed himself into the darkness in order to be worthy of, and to find more clearly, the light.
How could she not love a man who would go to such lengths to remedy his mistakes?
But more than that, she found in him a soul filled with goodness, humor, and strength. He had opened her eyes, and she hadn’t known they were closed to begin with. It certainly helped that he was handsome, danced well, and seemed to know when she was ready to laugh, and joined her in it.
Elinor moved into the sitting room at the front of the house, settling herself in the window seat and tucking her feet under her as she looked about the room. This was the room where she had questioned Partlowe on the subject of mistletoe with the intention of making Hugh as uncomfortable as possible, or perhaps finding a way to turn the plant into a poison. He hadn’t been intimidated in the least by it, and it had driven her to complete distraction.
She giggled to herself now, leaning her head against the wall as she reminisced. He was still driving her to complete distraction, but in very different ways.
There was no doubt in her mind that she did the same to him. She was, after all, quite opinionated, not to mention the fact that she had minimal talents for politeness. But Hugh didn’t seem to mind all that much, which was promising indeed.
What was it that he had said? I would wish you to be nothing more than Elinor Asheley.
No one had ever wanted her to just be her, not even the Spinsters. Oh, her friends had certainly taken her as she was, but they tended to make a habit of shushing her louder opinions and dismissing her ideas. Perhaps that was only right, given that she had been a right tyrant in every way, taking the independence the Spinsters afforded and abusing it to the extreme.
She had grown since then. A changed Hugh had found a changed Elinor.
Perhaps their mutual changing had opened the doors to each other. Doors that would have remained closed otherwise, and they would never have known such joy was possible.
Was this the way it had been for all the rest? A sudden rush of realization that life would never be the same? That joy was more full and hope more complete? The impulse to smile that never seemed to fade and only grew with every thought of him?
What a wonderful, confusing muddle of things!
Hugh Sterling, of all people!
Charlotte would shriek to high heavens. The others would be reluctant, but relatively open-minded. After all, they had thought C
amden Vale the epitome of improper at first, and now he was one of her favorites, if favorites were to be had. Once the ladies saw the man that Hugh was now, they would see that things were not as they once were.
The beauty of the way things stood now.
Oh, she needed to see him. She needed to be with him, walk with him, feel that breathless rush of exhilaration that only his presence could give her. She needed the chance to tell him, even if she might be too cowardly to do so straightaway. It might have been prudent to keep it as her secret for a time. There could be much good in letting herself relish in the knowledge and feelings and sensations of being near him and loving him, especially when he was unaware. It would add such an exciting, thrilling air to the thing.
What a right jolly Christmas this was all turning out to be!
Wild as she was to find him, she recollected the men had all gone out riding, as the morning had dawned rather fair, though it was still unusually cold. Glancing over at the clock on the mantle, she surmised that they ought to return shortly, and there would be a small window in which to speak with him in any privacy.
It was Christmas Eve, after all, and though the ballroom had been turned into the epitome of Christmas for the ball the night before, the rest of the house maintained the usual tradition of not being properly decorated as yet. That was the task of the day, and though Deilingh had servants aplenty to assist them, it was a long-held family tradition that all be involved in the project.
There were some adjustments to be made, especially once her cousin Lucinda had decided to take up a rare interest in cooking, and thus would spend the entire day in the kitchens with Mrs. Larpenteur, but, for the most part, the day was set before them. There would be light music and dancing this evening, and a relatively simple evening meal, given that the feast was to occur on the morrow. And, if tradition was kept, there would be a play put on.
An improvised pantomime, as it were. Of sorts, anyway.
They’d never been very good about such things. That, too, was tradition, and one of her favorites, actually.
The sound of voices brought her attention back around, and she rose quickly, grinning with excitement and hope. She moved quickly out the door of the room, brushing at her skirts and fussing at her hair in a sudden fit of nerves.
God Rest Ye Merry Spinster Page 12